


Simulation

by kingdomdizzy



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Axel - Freeform, Gen, KH3 spoilers, Sora - Freeform, Written before Re:Mind, post kh3, twewy reference, wink wonk, xion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingdomdizzy/pseuds/kingdomdizzy
Summary: Roxas came to a stop in front of the mansion, absentmindedly swaying the popsicle stick back and forth between his lips. His eyes fell on the white curtain in the upper floor window swaying from something, probably a draft.Just a draft. The last bite of ice cream fell down his throat. The popsicle stick sat in his hand; a single word printed across the cold wood.“We’re all just winners around here, huh?”
Kudos: 3





	Simulation

**Author's Note:**

> my piece for the Summer's End: Roxas Zine :))

“Where are you going, Roxas?”

It was a simple question. Routine. He could never simply sneak away from any of his friends, but he was also no good at lying to them either. He was, however, good at fabricating the truth until it wasn’t necessarily the truth anymore, but enough that it never hung on his conscience. 

“For a walk,” he said easily and with a smile, “I’ll be back soon.”

Xion, who had asked the question, just nodded, expression unreadable. He assumed that the longer he used that same not-truth not-lie she would eventually catch on that it wasn’t just a walk, but today wasn’t the day, and he slipped out of the usual spot without any more interruptions. 

He could still hear their chatter as he trotted towards the central plaza, making a quick stop at the ice cream shop. No reason in particular besides it was a relatively hot day and he had a decent walk to his destination. It felt refreshing on his tongue and down his throat, but there was something just slightly _off_ about this one. Too sweet? Too salty? Roxas couldn’t quite place it, so he ate it anyway.

The street followed past Little Chef’s Bistro, the smell flowing out of the building intoxicating as always, and rounded around a corner to the alley leading to the sandlot. Roxas took a quick glace around before turning heel the opposite direction and hopping into the sewers, careful of keeping his ice cream clear of the walls no one has cleaned in probably forever. He looked forward to the tunnels, dark and damp and detached from aboveground, and threw his hood over his head to begin his descent. 

The tunnels had become a lot more friendly looking since the first time he had come down here. It seemed so long ago that he couldn’t even really remember what had provoked him to this… _endeavor_ in the first place. The best thing to do would be to blame it on curiosity. Maybe a little bit of a guilty conscience, as well. 

Roxas bit into the ice cream, making a face at its taste. Yeah, guilty conscience was it. 

A pro that came from walking through the sewers more than enough times was that the walk always went faster than expected. He reached the end of the tunnels, pushing open the wooden panel covering the exit and revealing the woods covered in speckled shadows and pillars of sunlight draping over the leaves. The sight almost made Roxas smile; something about the familiarity of this place, the ceaseless warmth that came from this town resonated in his chest until it felt… full. Something he never thought he’d feel. 

_“I owe my return to many…”_

Another bite, another grimace, this time for a few different reasons. Sora would know what to do if one of them went missing. Sora always seemed to have this knack at this sorta hero business and saving-the-day undertakings. Now that _he_ was the one missing, well…

Roxas came to a stop in front of the mansion, absentmindedly swaying the popsicle stick back and forth between his lips. His eyes fell on the white curtain in the upper floor window swaying from something, probably a draft. _Just a draft_. The last bite of ice cream fell down his throat. The popsicle stick sat in his hand; a single word printed across the cold wood. 

“We’re all just winners around here, huh?” 

A long, drawn out groan echoed in the empty foyer as he pushed the door open, causing dust to fall into the light breaking through the windows. He glanced around as he made his way up the stairs to be sure nothing had changed, to be sure nothing had moved. Sure, he wasn’t one to believe in ghost stories told about this place, but the air always felt… unsettling, anyway. 

He reached the library, the floor already gone and vanished, and made his way into the basement. The computer in the corner generated a soft glow that coated the room. It felt like an entirely different world compared to upstairs, and especially outside. Roxas sat at the computer, feeling it hum all around him and under his fingertips. He wasn’t the best when it came to computers, he _certainly_ wasn’t Pence, but in all the times he had come here, to this computer, he was starting to get a hang of it. 

After all, trying to hack into a town simulation wasn’t the easiest thing in the worlds.

A few more clicks, screens flashed with numbers and letters from a language he didn’t know. He could feel it, being so close to possibly finding an answer. It’s all he could hope for, but hope seemed like a rare commodity these days. 

In a burst of light, the empty cavity to his right filled with an electric blue beam. The same one he had been put into all that time ago. It still made his blood boil at the thought, but this time it was his turn to prove his autonomy. Time to find answers from the inside. Time to leave the uselessness he felt in himself behind. 

Roxas cautiously got up out of the computer chair and reached his hand out. He had programmed the simulation to end at his command, so if anything went wrong, he could just escape, right? That’s what he told himself as his hand touched the beam. 

The light made him close his eyes. There was a pressure all around him, his ears popped. His feet lost the ground and he landed with a thud on hard ground somewhere outside. An automated voice echoed above him as the light faded away.

 _The simulation had begun_.

The front of the mansion revealed itself as he looked up. It was freaky, feeling like he had just been here but knowing that this place was completely different, in a different world. He pulled himself to his feet, spots dotting his vision from the pressure finally being lifted. He looked to the gate, slightly ajar and unlocked, but froze.

The fabric of the world looked as though it was breaking apart. Two bodies glitched in and out, facing each other but not being able to be seen well. Roxas moved forward, squinting and trying to make out who they were. A sharp pain hit the side of his head as the figures, transparent and still flickering in and out of reality, revealed themselves. It was him, Roxas, standing with his head down while Xemnas, his hood covering his face but movements unmistakable, revealed his new name. 

They flickered again and disappeared, and so did his headache. He ran forward with his hand outstretched, wanting to be sure that they were gone. The feeling in his stomach pushed him forward in a dire and dreadful demand to get away from that memory, his first moments alive.

Nothing was different as he entered the mansion for the second time except for the tingle. The same feeling that crept into his hand after sleeping on it wrong but… less. And in his whole body. Every atom in the room seemed to emit a low buzz that echoed in the back of his head. He looked up to the left, to the door closed with light peeking through the bottom. To the White Room. 

“Naminé.”

Roxas ran up the stairs and burst through the door, nearly becoming blind from the white light. His eyes adjusted to the curtains that blew slightly despite the lack of wind, all the drawings stuck to the walls and tabletop and floor, the notebook sitting open on one end of the table. He walked over, gently nudging the paper to a better angle. It was a drawing of him, standing in the white room, but parts of him weren’t quite finished yet. He looked… incomplete. 

The pain in his head came back just as another glitch appeared in front of him. Naminé flickered in and out of existence as she looked across the table somberly. Roxas turned to what she was looking at. Or, rather, who. 

Roxas, the Roxas that was trapped in this simulation, asked, “What do you know about me, that I don’t?” 

“You…” Naminé looked down at the drawing in front of her. “You were never supposed to exist, Roxas.”

He fell to his knees as he grasped at his head, trying to relieve the pain. He wasn’t sure what hurt more, the sting in his brain or the words he heard every night in his nightmares. 

_Never supposed to exist_.

“Just stop!” 

The pain subsided slightly. Enough for Roxas to look up at Naminé who was now looking down at him. “Roxas.” Her voice sounded distorted, far away. He reached out his hand and met her eyes.

_Why were they…_

“You shouldn’t be here.”

She vanished, and so did the pain. Roxas stood slowly, breathing heavily, and looked down at the drawing again before turning to leave the room.

_…gold?_

Roxas ran across the top floor to the opposite side, to the library. It didn’t make sense, none of it did. What were the glitches? Why was Naminé here? What were all these _things_ he was seeing? It was almost like…

He paused, stepping through the threshold into the library. It was almost just like how it was all that time ago, searching for the seventh and most mysterious wonder. Searching for something Roxas wasn’t even sure existed. Searching for… who he really was. 

For Sora. 

The floor disappeared after he filled in the other shape on the table. He could feel the cold pulling up from the basement, the same dry and frigid cold that he knew was circulating the computer. He followed the pull; it was like the current of a river, unrelenting in its tug to drag him deeper into the mansion. It felt easy, but that’s because he wasn’t fighting. 

Around the corner, the computer still sputtered out sparks of electricity. He saw the marks of his keyblade, all his anger and rage and confusion he had been plagued with, in all the dents and cracks in the hardware. The same dull ache filled his chest, the one he tried to push away along with these memories. Even now, after it was all over, they still managed to haunt him. 

“…Roxas.”

He turned his head towards the voice. It came echoing from the door to his right, the same one that led to the pod room. The same room that he hoped with all his will that Sora was in.

Leaving the broken machine behind him, he went through the hallway leading to a large open room. The hair on his arms stood on end. Something in here felt wrong. Just like the courtyard, just like the White Room, just like this whole place. There was a strange mix of ice and energy in the room. And he knew the same thing would happen, because it didn’t take long for his head to begin aching again.

Naminé, gold eyes flickering unsteadily, frowned as she materialized in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

Her voice sounded far away, like he was listening to it over a radio with bad static interference. “I came looking for answers,” he managed. Each word pounded against his temple.

She just shook her head. “You shouldn’t be here. This place is broken, unstable.”

“Why? This was Ansem the Wise’s creation, it should be fine.”

“It _was_ his creation, but it’s twisted a mind of its own. All it does is repeat the same chain of events, unending. We are all trapped here. If you don’t leave, you will be, too.”

The edge in her voice made Roxas shiver. “Come with me, I’ll get you out.”

“I’m not real,” she whispered. “I’m what you remember from this place. Everything here is only how you remember it. You being here is making it worse. You must leave.”

Naminé began flickering. Roxas reached forward, only to push his hand through nothing. Emptiness. And he was alone. 

But not for long.

“You forgot about me, Roxas.”

He felt the chill of cold metal lingering close to his face, and an even more frigid stare burned into his side. He turned, and Xion flickered faintly. The glow of gold eyes poured out from under her hood. The keyblade held to his neck didn’t waiver; that was reassuring to him. This Xion wasn’t real either. 

“You forgot,” she repeated, the same static in her voice.

“I might have,” Roxas breathed, “but I always remember.”

Quick as a reflex homed in long ago, Roxas summoned his keyblades and slashed at the Xion in front of him. Sparks flew when Oathkeeper hit against the metal floor, and he swung Oblivion up to catch her own overhead swing. They stayed in a struggle, pushing against each other. She quickly moved away and spun for his feet. He jumped, ready to kick her blade away, but felt a sharp burn in his back that knocked him onto the cold floor. 

“So, you came back for more, huh? Must’ve not gotten it memorized.”

Lea—no, Axel, weird and distorted with the same interference and hazy gold eyes—chuckled from his place next to Xion who had readied her keyblade for another strike. They both looked at Roxas on the floor with absolute evil, just as though they had waited all this time for him, the _real_ Roxas. 

Backed against the wall, he knew there would be no way he could survive this fight. He flattened his back against the cold metal and called out. “End simulation!”

Silence. Xion laughed underneath her hood. Axel dragged the edge of his chakram across the floor, slicing through the air. “I don’t think they can hear you, Roxas.”

They both drew back their weapons. Roxas, pain in his back from the last blow, held up his keyblades with a cry of effort. If they both struck at once, there was no way he would be able to hold them off. He knew that, so he closed his eyes and waited for the last blow. “End simulation,” he muttered feebly, hoping maybe it would hear him. But just as the last time, nothing happened. Axel and Xion surged forward.

Roxas waited for the pain, whatever he expected death to feel like, but all he heard was the clash of metal on metal, and the sound of static. Opening his eyes, he took in a breath when he saw him standing there, keyblade held up with both hands, holding off both Axel and Xion. He pushed them back, knocking their weapons on to the ground where they disappeared in distorted light. 

“Sora?”

Sora rushed forward without a word, slicing through the bodies of Roxas’ best friends, and watched as they vanished in a trail of falsification. The keyblades still in his hands vanished, as well. Sora eventually followed suit, then turned around.

His eyes were gold. 

“Roxas,” he said. Somehow, his voice still sounded the same, uncorrupted and pure. “You have to go.”

“I came here looking for you.” He couldn’t help the shake in his voice, feeling a mix of relief and fear. “You. The _real_ you, you’re missing.”

Roxas could see the pain on his face. “I know.” Sora stepped forward as Roxas pulled himself up against the wall. Roxas watched with labored breath as Sora took his hands and gave him a small smile. “It has to be you.”

“Wha—”

“You already know where I am.” 

Roxas looked down at his hands and gasped, clutching them to his chest. Sora took a step back and summoned his keyblade, reeling back in a swing. “It has to be you,” he all but whispered, and swung.

Cold sweat coated his body when he woke on the floor of the computer room. The light from the screen still illuminated the walls, the beam leading to the other world was shut off, and pain was still burning in his palm. He opened his hand, brows furrowed in confusion while the numbers etched in his skin counted down on their own. 

_You already know_.

Roxas pulled himself up, feeling the ache in his back and head, but pushing through it all until he stumbled outside into the brisk night air. Panic filled his lungs as he looked around the shadowed forest. Twilight Town never got dark. He flicked out his hand, opening a portal of darkness, a power he had wished never to have to use again. Even without a coat to wear, he stepped through, still mesmerized by the numbers on his palm. 

Determination rushed through his blood, filling his lungs as he thought about being locked away in Sora’s heart for so long, sharing such a strong bond with him. It was always warm; it was always safe. So, maybe he did know where Sora was. Maybe it _did_ have to be him. 

“I’ll find you, Sora.”

After the portal wiped away with the rest of the shadows, a voice echoed down deep below the ground, a mixture of every memory trapped within the walls. 

The simulation had ended.

The Game has begun.


End file.
